


Miss Griffin's Murder Mysteries

by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 20s, F/M, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TALIS, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries!AU, Silly Murder Mystery, UST and Blood, banter and cocktails, because drinking is good when there's a murderer on the loose, could you ask for more, dinner party murder mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky/pseuds/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky
Summary: Miss Griffin is known for a lot of things: her incredible fashion, quick wit, and fabulous parties – but lately she’s been better known for her success as a Private Lady Detective. She and Detective Inspector Bellamy Blake have had a hand in putting many murderers behind bars. When Miss Griffin invites the community to a large dinner party, festivities are soon cut short when Nia Azgeda is found murdered in her study.Soon, the party members are being taken out one by one. Miss Griffin and Detective Blake have to find the murderer before being added to the list.A MISS FISHER’S MURDER MYSTERIES!AU for my love talistheintrovert’s birthday!
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	Miss Griffin's Murder Mysteries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theinvisibledisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledisaster/gifts).



> Hello everyone! I just want to say I know it’s been a while and this is a little different than what I usually write.
> 
> This is for my amazing friend Talis, who is honestly one of the kindest, more intelligent, talented, warmest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. I just want to say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE, and know that we are all blessed that this world contains you in it.
> 
> I hope you like your birthday present. :)
> 
> For those not familiar with MISS FISHER’S MURDER MYSTERIES, it’s an AMAZING detective show set in the 20s in Melbourne, Australia. I highly recommend it to everyone because it’s fabulous in every way.
> 
> Miss Fisher = Clarke  
> Detective Jack Robinson = Bellamy  
> Jane = Madi  
> Dot = Harper  
> Constable Collins = Monty  
> Bert = Murphy  
> Cec = Miller  
> Mr. Butler = Diyoza  
> Mac = Raven  
> Aunt Prudence = Abby  
> Various Characters as Various Characters :P

MISS GRIFFIN’S MURDER MYSTERIES: Part One

_By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky_

“Murphy, if I catch you in the wine cellar, you will have to answer to me!” Harper calls, rushing around the house with a tray in hand.

_“Oi! That ain’t a threat!”_

“Then you’ll have to answer to _me._ ” Diyoza calls. Silence follows. Diyoza brushes her tux vest off. “Chin up, Harper. You just have to put those two in their place once and they won’t mess with you again.”

“Easy for you to say, you have years of military experience to back you up. Why would they be afraid of me?”

“You of all people know why Miss Griffin hired you as her companion, Harper. It’s about time you use your talents to your advantage, I think.”

Harper sets her tray down and starts to set the table, shifting the salad plate against the dinner one. “Wouldn’t that be a sin, Mrs. Diyoza?”

“Harper, for the millionth time – Diyoza, please. I think we moved past formalities three murders ago.” Diyoza sets a wine glass at the table. “And I wouldn’t call it a sin to put some derelicts in their place. I would call it… Christianly Mischief.”

Harper giggles to herself as she continues to set the table. As if on cue, Murphy and Miller burst through the wine cellar, their clothes covered in dust and soot. Their lips are tinged purple and the two of them are all but giggling like schoolgirls as they trip upstairs. “And after Diyoza is finished with you, I’ll sic you on Miss Griffin. John. Nathan.” Harper snaps.

That sobers the two up. “Ugh, you know how much we hate being called that. Mrs. Diyoza, Harper’s be informal.” Miller offers, jabbing her thumb in the woman’s direction. “Aim your ire at her.”

“She has been given explicit permission. And I can’t imagine I’d be giving the likes of you anytime soon. Put the wine in the kitchen if you know what’s good for you. Off!”

The two shuffle quickly out of the room. Diyoza turns to Harper. “It’s so fun to get into good Christian Mischief.”

Harper laughs.

“Wow, this whole room looks so divine!” Clarke exclaims, waltzing into the dining room. She’s clothed in a purple dress that swings around her in an elegant fashion, the beading twinkling in the chandelier light. Her straps are thin and intricate design pushes up her assets in a way that makes even Diyoza lift her eyebrows up. “You two are the best of the best.”

“Listen, Miss Griffin, if I was a man and I was ten years younger, I would be hitting on you right now.” Diyoza offers.

“You could anyways, it would be a rather incredible way to start the evening, I think.” Clarke says, brushing her headpiece so it tucks her hair properly. It glitters across her forehead, the feather flitting behind her ear. “I’m all for equal opportunity.”

“I would expect there would be a certain Detective who wouldn’t be happy if I did so.”

Clarke merely gives Diyoza a smirk before moving toward the table. “One can only hope.” She says with a wink.

Reaching across the table, Clarke takes an olive from the center and pops it in her mouth. “It’s setting up for a fabulous evening, doing you think?”

“One for the books, ma’am.” Diyoza chuckles.

“How about a toast?” Clarke asks, reaching across the table and grabbing three clean glasses. She marches over to the cabinet and pulls out an aged bottle of scotch.

“But Miss Clarke, these glasses are for the guests tonight. And that scotch was a gift.” Harper says as Clarke pours.

“Oh, we have more glasses in the pantry and you know it.” Clarke laughs, pulling her close. “And yes, it was a gift, which means I can do whatever I want with it. And I choose to share it with two of the most formidable women that I ever have had the pleasure to work with.”

“I’m not going to say no to that.” Diyoza says, lifting her glass up once it’s filled. “This is going to be the only civilized company we’ll have tonight. The riff raff will be sauntering in soon.”

“Anything for a warm meal, it seems. Even if it means opening the doors to riff raff.” Clarke says, lifting her glass. “To riff raff. May we know them, may we treat them, and most importantly, may we be them.”

“Here, here!”

The glasses clink.

***

The noise from the music is barely heard over the lively conversation, Diyoza only able to fill up the plates for a second before people pick them off. Clarke isn’t upset though, the wine is flowing and everyone seems to be having a good time. She keeps an eye on the door for the wayward straggler, but after an hour, she knows that she shouldn’t expect anyone else to come through. With one final look, Clarke fixes herself with a bright grin and returns to the living room just in time to see Raven elbow Murphy in the side.

“What has he done now?” Clarke asks, gliding over there.

Murphy wheezes. “She assaulted me!”

“Raven only assaults people for good reason.”

“It’s true, my mental acumen is unparalleled.” Raven says, flipping her hair. “And you are right Clarke, he did deserve it. He nicked my drink.”

“Murphy!”

“Oh whatever, she can afford to lose it. It’s not like you’re stingy with the pouring tonight.”

“Murphy, I swear you can drink everyone’s empties if you stop bothering them while they have them in their hands.” Clarke says, rolling her eyes. “Or even better, you can get a glass all on your own.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to partake in something so posh, miss.”

“You know I’m not one to be strict about drinking on the job. If you’d just stop bothering my guests.”

“Aw, Raven’s not a guest, she’s a target.”

“Murphy, I can kill you and make it look like an accident.”

“Na-ah, Miss Griffin would figure it out.”

“I would not.”

“Clarke!”

The shout comes from across the room and Clarke looks up to where Madi is waving her hands. “Oh look, Madi’s trying to get my attention.”

“Don’t you leave, Miss Griffin—”

“Toodles!”

Clarke waves her hands at the two and rushes to over where Madi’s standing in the doorway. “I was wondering where you were,” Clarke says, putting her arms over her shoulder. “Murphy and Miller are here, I know how much you love bothering them.”

“Is today the day that you’ll finally let me try champagne?” Madi asks, looking up at Clarke. “I finished all my school work and I didn’t get into any fights this week.”

“You did all that, simply so you could get a spot of alcohol?” Clarke asks, lifting her eyebrows. “You really are my ward – go bother Murphy. It’ll be the one final task before I’ll pour you a _small_ glass.”

“Really?” Madi asks, turning her attention to where Raven and Murphy are having a lively conversation. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun, why else?” Clarke says, ducking her head down closer to where Madi is.

Madi’s eyes sparkle as she giggles, running into the fray of the party. Clarke can’t help but laugh when she sees him recoil when Madi jumps up beside him, shouting out loud. It barely disrupts the party.

What does disrupt the party is a violent crashing sound from the other end of the house. Clarke startles at that, rushing through the throng of people who have merely frozen in time. She pushes past everyone in the way, making her way through the grand house until she reaches the study. The door is slightly ajar, a small light illuminated within. Quickly shoving the door open, Clarke lets out a gasp.

Strewn spread-eagle in the middle of the room is Nia Azgeda, her head tilted to the side and a cigar in her hand. Clarke rushes to her side, placing her hands on her throat. Her body is still warm, eyes shut as if she’s only been sleeping. Except, she waits and there’s nothing. No heartbeat, no movement. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “Harper!”

There’s a shuffling and Harper arrives in the doorway, her hands drawing to her mouth. “Oh my goodness – is that—”

“Harper, get the police on the phone. See if you can get Monty or Bellamy directly. He can explain why he didn’t show up to my party while he helps with the case.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaims, rushing from the room.

Clarke leans close to where Nia’s cigar is in hand, leaning close. Standing up, Clarke goes to the drawer in a coffee table, a pair of gloves sitting in the drawer. Reaching into it, Clarke slips them on, reaching down to where the pipe is in Nia’s hand. Taking it out of her hand, Clarke brings her nose close and takes a sniff. It’s a strange odor, not like the tobacco she’s smelled before. She takes a bit in her fingers, rubbing it in her fingertips.

“I hope that wasn’t any other place than your hands, Miss Griffin. I would hate to have to charge you with tampering a crime scene.”

Clarke can’t help but smile to herself as she stands. “Bellamy!” She exclaims, turning to face the man.

He leans against the door, his face as sober as the day she met him. He’s in his inspector’s garb, fitted with tie and hat, to which she frowns. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Bellamy recoils ever so slightly, looking down at his garb. “You take issue with my suit?”

“That’s your Detective uniform.”

“You’ll see, Miss Griffin, that I’m a detective. I would’ve thought you of all people would know that.”

Clarke takes a careful step close to him, sure to let her leg move to the slit of her dress, revealing a intricately-stocked leg. “Oh yes, Bellamy, that is something I know. But what I don’t understand is why you’re wearing it right now.”

“Well, I am a detective of crime. And there was a crime in this room. After I deal with you, I’ll move on to the body.” Bellamy states, a smirk quirking on his lips.

Clarke moves so that they’re but inches close together. “That sounds fun. I give you full permission to search me thoroughly.”

Bellamy quirks and eyebrow. Clearing his throat, he says, “I received a call about a dead body. Ah! There it is.”

Clarke huffs as he pushes past her.

“Now, I will choose to see past the point that you have a whole party going on, and focus on this poor unfortunate soul. Who might this person be?”

Clarke turns to face him. “I have half a mind to chastise you for blowing off my invitation.”

“Miss Griffin, I assure you, I only blow things off in the right circumstances.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to lift an eyebrow.

A deep flush flashes across his cheeks. “Investigative, of course.”

“Of course.” Clarke offers, kneeling and smirking next to him. “Meet Nia Azgeda, My Aunt’s patent lawyer from years back. My Aunt always makes me invite her, but she almost never comes. I was surprised _she_ of all people, showed up.”

Bellamy nods, looking down at the body before him, completely oblivious to the tone. “And I suspect you found something interesting with the cigar, otherwise you wouldn’t have moved my body, yes?”

“I find all sorts of things interesting, Bellamy. Just like how you are dressed in your detective clothes.”

“Why are you so interested in my clothes?” Bellamy asks. “I would’ve thought the body in front of us would’ve been more enticing for you.”

“Oh, it is, don’t worry, Bellamy. I’m sure you and I will be talking about murder until the end of time. But what I can’t understand is why you’re in your inspector clothes when I explicitly extended an offer to my party. I just assumed you got held up at work, not that you ignored it entirely.”

“Seems like I could’ve been held up at work and then you called me with a crisis,” Bellamy says distractedly, working his hands into the man’s pockets.

“Is that what happened?”

“What?”

Clarke reaches across to where Bellamy’s searching the body, careful to avoid anything on the body, but making sure their arms are intertwined and hands close. “Is that why you didn’t attend my party?”

“Miss Griffin, I have more pressing matters at the moment, if we can parlay this conversation for later.” Bellamy says, avoiding her gaze and pushing past her hands. “I need to focus on—”

“—the body.” Clarke says, leaning closer.

“Yes.” Bellamy states, looking decidedly anywhere but her chest.

“Very well, Detective Inspector Blake. I suppose we can always catch up at another time.”

“Yes, I think that’d be best.”

Clarke stands up, taking a look around the room. In the corner of her eye, she sees a book precariously tilting on the edge of the bookshelf. As discreetly as she can, Clarke moves toward the shelf, takes the book, and places it behind her. She moves over to the doorframe, close to Constable Green. “Oh, hello Monty.” Clarke says with a bright smile. “Always good to see you.”

“Miss Griffin—”

“Harper, can I steal you attention for a moment?” Clarke asks, grabbing her arm. Clarke leads Harper down the hall where the guests are all in the parlor. “Hello everyone! Unfortunately, we all must sit tight as Detective Blake does his first sweep of the house. I’m sure Mrs. Diyoza would be happy to help freshen your drinks and we’ll be serving food shortly. Murphy, Miller?”

She flicks her fingers toward the other room, the group of them following. Whisking them away in private, Clarke says, “Okay, we have a murderer in the house somewhere.”

“What?” Murphy cries. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone that!”

“Not _now_ , you idiot.” Harper snaps, smacking him.

“We need to make sure no one leaves and that everyone is feeling safe. Murphy, Miller – make sure to lock down the whole house. Harper – you mentioned that you once studied French poetry.”

“I-I mean, I just like the idea of it. The romantics of it all.”

“Would you mind taking a look at this book then?” Clarke hands it over. “It was the only one askew in the library, which leaves me to believe that it was what he was looking at.”

Harper takes it. “Of course, Miss, but why didn’t you tell Detective Blake? I’m sure he’d find it just as interesting as I.”

“I’m quite upset with him at the moment,” Clarke says, lifting her head up. “I invited him tonight to the party and he didn’t even have the nerve to say no. He just doesn’t show up?” Smoothing out her hair, she shakes her head. “No, he owes me an apology for his appalling behavior.”

“But—”

“Let me know if you come up with anything.”

“Clarke!” Madi peeks from the doorway. “Can I talk to you?”

“In a moment, Madi!” Clarke grabs Harper’s arms. “The _moment_ you find something—”

“I’ll find you, I promise.”

“Clarke!”

“Yes, Madi!” Clarke says, her voice raising a bit higher than she means, then wincing. “I’m sorry Madi, I’m just a bit… distracted.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” Madi cries. “About Ms. Nia!”

“Absolutely not, Madi, champagne is one thing, dealing with this investigation is another—”

“No, it’s why I was late to the party. I was talking to Ms. Nia in the study about her war stories. She was telling me about her time on the front line. She wouldn’t stop talking and I was trying to get out to the party.”

“Madi, did you see something? Something out of the ordinary?”

“Well, her cigar smelled a little different than what Murphy and Millernsmoke. I thought it was just a little fancier. But it made me sick. That’s how I got out of her stories. I told her the smoke was bothering me.”

Clarke moves her over to the chair, running her hands down her hair. “Madi, you’re alright. You can tell me. When did this happen?”

“Right before I came out. Just minutes before the crash. D-Do you think Detective Blake will think I killed him?”

“Madi, no. Bellamy will just want to talk to you – to see if there’s anything else he needs. But,” Clarke says, a thought hitting her. She knows she shouldn’t be as annoyed with Bellamy – it was a simple invitation, that’s all – but she thought that they had reached a point where they could be more social.

She wouldn’t tell anyone, but it hurt her a bit. She knows it shouldn’t, but it did. She had quite excited to see Bellamy in his dress tux. Perhaps get him in a dark corner…

“Miss Griffin, I need to use your parlor to conduct investigations.” Bellamy snaps Clarke out of her reverie when he marches in the room like he knows the whole area well. Which, Clarke supposes he does, the amount of times they’ve had a nightcap here together. “Is there any way we can move your guests into the dining room in order to make a private room for questioning? It’d be easiest to split people up.”

“Of course, Detective Blake. Anything to help you with the case.” Clarke says with a smile, cocking her head. “I’m sure I can keep the wine running.”

“Perhaps some bread too, Miss Griffin. I would like to actually be able to get answers out of your guests.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. I’ll send Raven your way to see if she can examine the body to help.”

“That would be good.”

“While we’re on the subject,” Clarke says, placing her arm on the doorway so he can’t escape. “If someone invites you to a dinner party, the polite thing is to decline if you don’t intend on arriving.”

“Clarke—”

“—and furthermore, if you are a person who sees the host almost every day, it would be easy just to tell them.”

“Clarke, is this really what you want to be talking about?”

Clarke know she’s a bit silly at the moment – there is a death in her study. But she’s feels particularly rebuffed, albeit indirectly. Moving as close to him as she can, she scans the Detective up and down. “Bellamy.”

Bellamy swallows. He doesn’t recoil though. Clarke almost dares him to move closer, to make the first move. “I had a prior engagement.” He says calmly. “I was planning on coming, but I was… distracted.”

“Distracted?” Clarke asks, moving closer. “And here I thought I had a monopoly on distracting you.”

“Trust me, you usually are the biggest offender. But in this one moment, there was something I had to attend to.”

“You couldn’t find yourself near a phone? Could’ve…given me a quick chat?”

“Miss Griffin, you have over a dozen guests in your parlor. I did not think my absence would be noticed.”

“I always notice when you’re not there, Bellamy. I would’ve thought you’d know that by now. Or, at least, I would’ve hoped.”

“Trust me, Miss Griffin. Hope is all I have left, when it comes to you.”

Clarke can’t help the corners of her mouth curling up. “Well, now that that’s settled. I suppose we can move on.”

“That, of course Miss Griffin, would’ve involve moving.”

“Such a shame, I find so cozy here.”

“Too bad for the dead body.”

“Always ruins our best moments, don’t they?”

Pushing herself away from him, Clarke brushes herself off. “You know, you may want to have Monty speak with Harper. She…may have a book that I noticed was askew in the study before I left.”

“Miss Griffin, you wouldn’t have taken evidence away from a crime scene again, would you?”

“Absolutely not! I simply took my own property from my own library.” Clarke says, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t see any crime in that.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “You never do.”

***

“This is simply a disaster,” Abby says, running her hands down her face. “Clarke, do you understand what this sort of death could do for your reputation about town?”

“No more than what I’ve already done to it _being_ about town.” Clarke offers, taking a quick swig of whatever Diyoza put in front of her. It burns, but does the trick to take the edge off. “You can’t think I wanted this to happen.”

“I don’t know with you anymore, Clarke. You’re out there, running about with your Detective—”

“Bellamy is hardly _my_ detective, Aunt Abby.”

“—and owning a gun and getting yourself in all sorts of predicaments. And now – all our closest friends are here! What will they think?”  
  


“They are all excited to have a story to share with their families when they get home. And as for your other charge, I’ve been getting myself into predicaments my entire life. You know I went to war, right?”

“Hardly the same thing.”

“Harper!” Clarke cries when the woman enters the room, her eyes widening. “So sorry, I must go to Harper and see if she has anything for me. Until we bring this up again.”

“But Clarke, this is serious—”

“So is murder!” Clarke waves her hands aside, moving closer to where Harper is skulking at the doorway. “What do you have for me, Harper?”

“This, miss.” Harper says, flipping the book open. It yields nothing more than a typical back, but then Harper runs her nails under the lining, revealing a folded piece of paper. “This was in the back.”

“Well done, Harper!” Clarke says, grabbing it and unfolding it quickly. _“Just as the stars in the sky twinkle down on the water, my eyes are drawn to you. Arkadia.’_ Arkadia? Is that a poet?”

“None that I’ve ever read about. But look in the corner. There was a time.”

“Half past nine. It’s nearly half past nine now. Whoever planned to meet our dearly departed never got their meeting.” Clarke looks around, her guest grumbling and panicked. “Okay, this is what I need you to do. Have Diyoza break out the case of French champagne I brought back a year ago and see if you can entice them by cutting up the entrée small and using it as an appetizer.”

“Of course. But what will you do?”

“What I do best, of course.” Clarke makes her way toward the door entrance. “Meddle.”

Harper beams at her as she floats toward the exit. “What should I tell Monty and the Detective?”

“Sometimes I’m just too busy to give the Inspector a call, isn’t that a shame?”

She sees Harper shake her head out of the corner of her eye, but Clarke pretends that she doesn’t. Instead, she continues to inspect the note, frowning at the way the letters curl. She’s certain she’s seen that handwriting before, the loops and the cursive. Making her way up the stairs, Clarke lifts her dress to walk as quietly as possible. “The stars,” she mutters to herself. “Only a few minutes until the meeting point.”

Clarke peers down the hallway, the doors of her second story, closed as usual. Except one.

At the far end of the hall, there’s a single door ajar. Clarke looks behind her to see if anyone thought it’d be a good idea to follow her, but when she is satisfied that she’s alone, she reaches down and lifts up her dress. Tucked in the garter wrapped around her thigh is her golden pistol, for safe keeping, of course. It wasn’t that Clarke thought a dinner party would be an opportunity to use the device, but if her time as a Lady Detective taught her anything, it’s that it never hurts to be prepared.

Taking it out and aiming it down the hallway, Clarke takes a few more calculated steps toward the ajar door. Diyoza would never have left that open, she’s far too meticulous about that sort of thing. Placing her back against the wall, Clarke peeks her head through the crack of the door. She aims the gun, but not before she sees a shadow move in the room. The person is rummaging around in a few drawers of the room. Clarke carefully places a foot inside the door.

It squeaks.

Clarke curses, but before she can figure out anything that’s going on, someone’s launching themselves at her. She shouts, but her pistol is knocked out of the way. Before she can grab it, her accoster has her locked on the ground, a blade at her throat. Looking up, the dark room masks any features except a pair or murderous eyes. Reaching as far as she possibly can, Clarke feels the metal of the gun press deeper. She makes a small noise as it breaks skin.

Her hands wrap around something and she swings it, knocking the figure off her with a swift blow to the stomach. They shout, falling back into a dresser. Clarke struggles to reach for the gun, but by the time she’s managed to grab it and point, the figure’s gone.

The window is slightly ajar, a piece of cloth flowing in the wind of a gentle breeze.

“Miss Griffin!” Shouts call from the hallway, stampeding down the hallway. She lets out a choked breath and rolls onto her stomach, trying to collect herself before anyone comes in.

Of course, she’s barely on her feet by the time Bellamy bursts in the room, Monty and Harper not far behind. “Clarke!” Bellamy shouts, running to her the moment he’s in. Cupping her face in his hands, he runs his fingers down them. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Oh, you know me Bellamy. I’m always alright.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Miss Griffin.” Bellamy says, holding her in front of him, his thumb brushing against the part of her throat that used to have a knife pressed against it. Clarke can’t help when she winces, as he examines her. “What happened?”

“Someone was going through things in here and then they attacked me. Which was rude, I’ve never turned down an interesting house guest.”

“You hear something like that again, you don’t go by yourself, are you completely insane? When there’s someone that’s just been murdered in your own study?”

“Bellamy, you of all people should know that I like my independence.”

“And Clarke, you should know that I’m perfectly fine with your independence, as long as you keep me in the loop when you’re feeling flashes of it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but she likes how close he is to her. She even lifts her eyebrow, daring.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t take the bait.

Monty flips on the lights revealing a disheveled room and papers strewn about. Clarke kneels down to pick a few up, gathering them. Harper moves to help, the two of them grabbing the dresser and helping it up. When Clarke lets go, there’s a powder of her hands, flecks of white rubbing off on her skin. “Harper, look at this,” she says, showing the woman her hand. Bringing her hands up to eyelevel, Clarke wiggles her fingers. “I don’t recognize that. Did anyone repaint the dresser?”

“No, miss. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was in this room, I’m ashamed to say.”

“Bellamy, look at this!” She exclaims.

“Oh, remembered I’m here?”

“Don’t be like that, I’m the one with a reason to be upset, not you.”

“Are you still on that? I thought we—”

“Hush.” Clarke grab’s Bellamy’s hand and smears some of the white powder against it. “What is this?”

“Besides you staining my hand—”

Clarke brings it up to her nose and sniffs. “It’s not the same as the cigar in the study. It almost seems like…”

“Chalk.” Bellamy states, brushing his hands off on his trousers. “I’d know that smell everywhere. Monty is always writing on that chalk board in the front—”

“I thought you said my board meetings were helpful!”

“—and it smells just like this.”

Clarke frowns. “That’s not nearly as helpful of a discovery as I would’ve hoped.”

“I aim to please.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Clarke sighs. “The thing is, I wouldn’t even know where to look for what someone took. This room is nothing more than legal documents and old photo albums.”

“Perhaps I should have Monty help you with a filing system.”

“It won’t help us right now.”

“I know, but—”

A scream cuts through the air.

Everyone freezes for a moment. It’s as if time has frozen and they were in a pocket together. Then, it shatters.

“What was that?” Bellamy cries, rushing down the hall. “Stay here!”

“Not likely,” Clarke says while running after him. She’s a bit dizzy, but it’ll go away with a shot of whiskey. “Harper, let’s go!”

“No, _Monty_ , let’s go!”

“Why don’t we all go!” Clarke exclaims.

“You are exhausting!” Bellamy shouts.

Clarke throws a coy look at Harper behind her should and shrugs. “Only in the best possible way!”

However, by the time they make it to the kitchen, the entire party is in an uproar. Aunt Abby is screaming as people crowd over a slumped figure in the parlor. All the rest of her guests are clutching their chest and faces. Clarke frowns at this, because no one reacted like this with Nia, because no one really knew her. But there are people crying and staring.

Making her way through the throng of people, Clarke pushes until she sees the figure on the ground. “Oh my god,” she breathes, the sight of the man on the floor even startling her. When Harper joins her, the woman gasps so loud, someone jumps.

“Thelonious,” Aunt Abby cries, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my god, Thelonious.”

Thelonious Jaha sits in a chair in the parlor, the glass of scotch still in his hand. His face has ashened and eyes dead, staring into nothing anymore. Foam is spilling from his mouth and there’s something rigid about the way he’s sitting that looks unnatural.

“What happened?” Clarke asks her aunt as she charges into the room. Wrapping her arms around Aunt Abby, Clarke stares at the body before her. “Diyoza, what—”

“Clarke, I gave him the scotch we all drank earlier.” Diyoza says, rushing over. “The exact same one. He wanted something to calm his nerves, I poured it and he started choking. I swear—”

“Calm down, we know you didn’t do anything—”

“We don’t know that.” Bellamy says, putting his hands up. “Miss Griffin, if you don’t mind, this is still my investigation.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke. But I think we’re going to—”

“No one’s going anywhere.” Bellamy says, standing up and putting his hands out. “There have been two deaths here and we’re going to need to keep everyone here while we figure it out.”

“But what if the killer comes after us?”

“We don’t even know if it’s the same person, or what’s going on. We need to just remain calm—”

“You know Bellamy,” Monty interjects, looking at his notepad. “The chances of there being two separate killers is very small. We’re most likely looking for someone in this room.”

“Monty,” Bellamy seethes quietly. “Let’s not scare the people, shall we?”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Miss!” Miller rushes over. “We’ve tried to secure the house, but the lock in the back has been broken.” Miller opens his palm to reveal a broken padlock, white paint smeared across. “I-I can’t find any replacements.”

Clarke looks at Bellamy. She can see the panic in his eyes, the way he’s trying to think of what would be the best course of action. The panic is only there for a second before he stands up and brushes off his jacket. “Looks like we’ll be securing the property, I want everyone to remain calm and stay for questioning. Ms. Diyoza, if you have spare coffee, I think it time to put it on and a cork the liquor.”

“Ah, fuck.” Murphy sighs, settling down the glass that’s in his hand.

***

“My nerves are just completely shot.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, rubbing her aunt’s back. There’s a part of her that’s itching to be in the room while Bellamy interrogates her guests, but her aunt is so distraught, she can’t bring herself to leave her side. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”

Tears well in Abby’s eyes as her hands grasp a tea cup, the china shaking against the plate. “It’s my fault.” She whispers to herself, shaking her head. “This is all my fault.”

“How could this be your fault?” Clarke asks, gesturing to Harper to refill her aunt’s cup. Harper doesn’t need any urging, she’s already at Aunt Abby’s side with fresh water. The woman sits down and strokes Clarke’s aunt’s arm, the three of them sitting there.

“I was supposed to… I mean.”

Clarke freezes at that. “Aunt Abby,” Clarke asks carefully. “Does the word ‘Arkadia’ mean anything to you?”

Abby stills. It shocks her enough to stop her weeping. Abby looks at Clarke, eyes red and bloodshot, expression severe. “H-How—” she whispers, eyes wide. “How do you know that term?”

Clarke nods to Harper, who reaches in her pocket and places a piece of paper in front of her. Abby takes it in her hands, fingers trembling as she unravels it. Placing her hands over her mouth, Abby stifles a sob. “W-Where did you get this?”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” Harper states, sliding the book of French poetry at her. “We found this in the study.”

Abby sucks in a breath. Lower lip trembling, Abby says, “You know how much I loved my husband. He was – is – the love of my life. But… as time passes, you grow lonesome in the world. And when there’s someone who you feel close to—”

“These were meetups and love letters.” Clarke says, her words catching.

“We’ve been friends the majority of our adult lives. My husband and I worked with Thelonious on a project together, about getting a machine to space. Seemed ridiculous at the time, but Jake’s work drove the science. After his untimely death, the project petered out, but his research was still there. Thelonious was more the charisma of the project, getting investors. He always had a way with words and dealing with people. We became… close. I called him Arkadia, after the name of our project. He called me the Chancellor, because he said I had a habit of bossing everyone around. The names stuck.

“Soon, we were meeting for coffee once a week. Then the occasional dinner. Then it became regular. I…I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Abby.” Clarke says, wrapping her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

Abby’s thin fingers brush against the words scrawled on the note. “We were just going to have a discussion in the courtyard. Oh, how we both love to look at the stars. Reminds me that in all of life’s pain, it never ceases to move forward.”

“What is that?”

The three women look up to where Bellamy’s standing in the doorway with Monty by his side, pointing his pen at the note in Abby’s hands. Eyes widening, Clarke jumps to her feet and rushes over to where Bellamy is. “Detective Blake? A word?”

“We can have one in a second, what is that—”

“No time like the present!”

She pulls Bellamy outside the kitchen into the tight hallways between the foyer, drawing close. “Please do not ask my aunt to give it up until she’s ready. It’s a note from Jaha to her. Apparently they were secret lovers.”

“Where did you happen upon that?”

“It…may have been in the book I took from my own study earlier.”

“Miss Griffin,” Bellamy says, clenching his jaw. “This is not a usual case where the you can go behind me. There is a murderer in your party whose killed two people. I need to know everything you find and uncover. We are a team, I thought that we worked well together.”

“You’re right.”

“I mean, don’t—wait. Did you just agree with me?”

“Yes, in this moment I agree. I apologize for my behavior.” Clarke stares, somber. “My actions will be entirely by the book.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it, Bellamy. I have moves you’ve never seen.” Clarke says with a wink, moving past him.

“Miss! Miss!” Miller runs in, Murphy not far behind. “We’ve secured the whole house, but I just remembered something.”

“And I swore very loudly when he reminded me.” Murphy offers.

“Do you remember when we had that guy break into the house because he wanted to use you as a goddess for some cult.”

“Vividly.” Clarke states.

“I tried to block that out of my memory.” Bellamy sighs.

“Me too.” Harper offers.

“Me _too_.” Monty groans.

“We never figured it out because he was captured and in jail. But I just discovered how he did it!”

“What a great, low-stakes moment for that realization.” Murphy drawls.

“Shut _up_ , Murphy.” Monty and Bellamy say at the same time.

“They were using the crawlspace under the house. There is an old hatch in the back room that leads underneath. I found it ajar.” Miller says. “I think it’s how the person has been getting in and out.”

“That’s great work, Miller.” Bellamy says, clapping his shoulder.

“Hey, I helped.” Murphy cries. “I said, ‘hey, you’re annoying me. Go into the back room.’”

“Yes, we are all in debt to your service.” Clarke drawls. “Miller, what did you see when you looked in the hatch?”

“It was really dark.” Miller says unhelpfully.

“Was it also… _cold_.”

“Shut up, Murphy!”

“You didn’t look around.” Bellamy sighs.

“I didn’t have a flashlight and someone is killing people!” Miller puts his hands up. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“Goddammit, _Murphy_!”

“Okay, enough you two.” Clarke says, placing her hands in the air. “Bellamy. We need to check out that tunnel.”

“ _We_ don’t need to do anything, _I_ —"

“You’re the one who said we work better together! You said that, so I am just following your lead, Detective Blake. It just so happens that we are going to the same place.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Diyoza,” Clarke says, speaking over him. “You have a fine collection of guns at your disposal. Miller, Murphy?”

Murphy brings the flap of his jacket back. “Got to be ready to fight at any given moment.”

Monty eyes his gun. “All your guns legal?”

Miller and Murphy decidedly do _not_ make eye contact. Diyoza straightens her jacket. “Of course they are. I’ve always done things above board.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Murphy snorts.

Diyoza looks at Monty. “If I assault him, will you turn a blind eye?”

“I may join you if it helps.”

“That would.”

“Okay, this isn’t gang up on Murphy.”

“False,” Miller cuts in. “Every day is gang up on Murphy day.”

“Why you guys figure that out, Harper, can you make sure everyone is feeling quite alright?” Clarke asks. “It’s going to be a long evening. Maybe put on some of your famous scones.”

Bellamy looks up. “Can you save one for me?”

Clarke can’t help but smirk when Harper ensures that she’ll keep some aside. He straightens up and nods to Clarke, who picks up her dress and follows as Monty and Harper start to calm the guests the best they can.

“I don’t think that’s a very practical outfit to be running around tunnels in.” Bellamy offers.

“One of life’s deepest pleasures is being impractical in every way.”

“A general motto of yours?”

“Just a friendly piece of advice, Bellamy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Bellamy and Clarke reach the entrance to under the house and Bellamy takes off his hand and coat. “You’ll forgive me, Miss Griffin, if this one time I do not follow the orders of ‘ladies first.’”

“You’re forgiven. Only because you ask so nicely.”

Bellamy’s lips turn up at that, pulling the hatch open and tilting the door. There’s a white powder tracing the edge, just as the dresser in the forgotten study. Bellamy quirks an eyebrow at that and Clarke nods. Hoisting himself down the hatch, Bellamy disappears into darkness. Clarke is quick to follow, in case the man gets any ideas about leaving her.

As soon as her heels his the ground, her nose scrunches up at the dampness and stale smell in the area. Clicking her flashlight on, Clarke rushes over to where Bellamy is a few paces ahead, surveying the area. “So, now that we’re officially alone—”

“Hardly. I suspect there’s a murderer somewhere around.”

“Alright, now that we’re alone with a murderer, are you ready to tell me what had you so distracted?”

Bellamy startles. “I thought we agreed we were done with that.”

“No, we agreed that I would be kind enough to forgive your misguidance. But we didn’t agree to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Miss Griffin,” Bellamy turns around so quickly, that it startles her. Soon he’s so close to her, her breath catches. “I will ask you to let me have this one secret, if you don’t mind. I know you to be a curious sort of woman, but I like to keep this one to myself. If you don’t mind.”

Clarke is surprised. Bellamy has always been a private sort of person, but not to her. The two have opened themselves up over the cases, seeing each other in the highest highs and lowest lows. He’d never asked formally for a secret, nor did she expect that he would ever do so. Except he’s looking at her so earnestly, his hand hovering over hers as if he wants to grab it.

Clarke is very aware that the two of them are alone, the darkness of under the house giving them the cloak that they always needed for something a little further than partners. She knows that Bellamy feels it too, his chest leaning toward her and gaze lingering longer than it ever should. She opens her mouth to say something, but finds that she cannot find any sort of work that would properly convey what she’s feeling.

She moves to say that his privacy is more than earned, when there’s a popping noise. The two jump apart, Bellamy’s comforting presence gone. The two shine their flashlights further down the tunnel, illuminating a bright gas filling up the area. “What the—” Bellamy says. Then he stiffens. “Go, go, go! Out the hatch! Out the hatch!”

Clarke may not have personal experience with the substance, but she knows this is no time for dawdling. Rushing over to the hatch, she moves to push it open, but… it doesn’t budge. Pounding her fists against the door, Clarke shouts, “It’s wedged shut! I can’t open it!”

Bellamy rushes over, gun in one hand. He lodges himself so he can press his shoulder against the door, but it does move. He slams his hand against it over and over, Clarke looking around for any sort of movement as the gas fills up the room. “Miss Griffin, cover your face!” Bellamy cries, wrapping his hand around her mouth.

“I can’t do it when you do that, Bellamy!” She cries. Taking a piece of the bottom of her dress, Clarke rips it swiftly, the beads falling to the floor. She splits it in two, handing a piece to Bellamy. He flinches at first when she hands him a piece of her dress, but places it against his face. “We need find another way out!”

“Is there one?”

“I don’t know, do you know the inner workings of under your house?”

“Fair point,” Bellamy nods. “This way. Don’t breathe too deeply.”

The two make their way through, the gas filling higher and higher, become a thick smog that even the dress placed against their faces can prevent. Clarke finds herself growing faint, the acidic smell burning her nostrils and Bellamy starting to double before her eyes. She reaches out for his shirt to steady herself, her hand missing. Clarke collapses to the ground, her knees buckling. Her hands his the rough ground, the piece of dress falling somewhere in the darkness.

“Clarke!” Bellamy cries, reaching out. “Clarke, get up!”

His legs start to shake.

The last thing she sees is the tower of a man falling before her, a halo of gas curling around his form.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: PART ONE!
> 
> The next part will finish it up, with some more murder, a murderer, and a conclusion to the mystery of – why didn’t Bellamy show up to the dinner party, and what was he doing?!?!?!
> 
> TALIS, I hope you enjoyed. I love you so much and am so glad you exist. <3 <3 <3 Happy Birthday <3 <3 <3


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